


Nothing From Something

by kashmir



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-23
Updated: 2008-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashmir/pseuds/kashmir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jess hates the phrase 'she comes from nothing.'</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing From Something

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by [](http://leighm.livejournal.com/profile)[**leighm**](http://leighm.livejournal.com/), written for the Guess The Author contest over at [](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gleeweek/profile)[**spn_gleeweek**](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_gleeweek/) \- thanks to [](http://girlmostlikely.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://girlmostlikely.livejournal.com/)**girlmostlikely** for running it again and just being all-around awesome.

Jess hates the phrase 'she comes from nothing.' She's heard it over and over growing up and every time, she has to grit her teeth and not scream at the people who are just trying to be nice to her, albeit in a back-handed sort of way.

She wants to scream at them that everyone comes from something and in her eyes, her something was pretty damn good. Maybe not ideal, maybe not the most affluent but she grew up loved and nurtured and cared for and really, Jess thinks, what more could a girl ask for?

Her life started out like most other people's. A mom and a dad and a small house in the suburbs of Seattle during the early Eighties. Her mom and dad had met in college (go Huskies!) and were engaged by their senior year. Her dad worked as an architect in an up and coming firm and her mom was a dancer, working at a studio teaching ballet and tap to small girls with big dreams and clumsy feet.

But when Jess was three months old, her mother barely back at work after maternity leave, her dad was killed by a drunk driver in a head-on collision on his way home from work one night. His loss devastated her mom, who wasn't stable either financially or emotionally for awhile after his death so they moved in with Jess' maternal grandparents, who owned a farm outside of Portland, Oregon; a quaint, sort of all-American spread that Jess' own mother had had full reign of during her first eighteen years.

Jess flourished and grew under the watchful eyes of her grandparents and mother. She learned how to ride and loved to help her grandmother tend the vegetable garden. Her mother gave her private ballet lessons in the barn every night after supper and Jess, while not nearly as graceful as her mother and clearly not a natural dancer, learned to love and anticipate that hour with her mom, with the light shining gold and warm through the big barn door, filtering the dust motes in the air as Jess' mom led her through the positions and pirouettes and imparted her love of the Nutcracker onto her young daughter.

When Jess turned eight, her life changed forever. Her mom and grandma took her with them on a trip to Chicago to visit her great-aunt Addie. One their third day there, the four of them made their way to the Art Institute of Chicago and from that day forward, Jess knew what she was meant to do.

She makes her mom buy her a sketch pad and a myriad of pens and pencils the next day and from then on, she's never without some sort of pad and drawing implements. She spends the rest of her childhood drawing and documenting her life through pictures and doodles. She starts on the plane ride home from Chicago, fills up her grandparent's fridge with pictures of their gardens and the barn and the way the light streams in through the front door first thing in the morning.

For Mother's Day when Jess is twelve, she takes some new techniques she's learned in one of her many art classes that her mother works tirelessly to pay for (including two jobs and horrendous commutes) and paints a portrait of her mother, dancing. It's soft and pale and achingly beautiful and her mother cries when Jess gives it to her, the custom frame she'd saved up to have made not detracting in the least from the captured grace and kinetic energy visible in her mother's limbs and the peace on her face.

Her art takes a back seat when her grandfather falls ill the summer she's fourteen. She spends less time sketching and more time helping her grandmother around the house, making her grandpa's lunch, watching his game shows with him in the afternoon. She keeps up with her added work around the house once school starts back up and as she sort of settles into high school, her life seems to speed up and pass by in a blur of scenery.

She gets accepted into a special summer arts program in the middle of her sophomore year, right before she turns sixteen. It's a four week program, in Rome and although the cost is outrageous, especially on her mother's meager income and her grandparent's social security, they vow they will get here there somehow. She hates the thought of them having to scrimp and save so much so she can spend the summer flouncing around Italy but she also desperately wants to go, to have this experience.

In the end, she compromises and tells them she'll only accept half of the money for the trip from them and then, only if they count it as her birthday present. Her mother agrees and runs a gentle hand through Jess' blonde curls, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"You're your daddy's girl," she murmurs and Jess feels her eyes prick with tears, the mention of her father something rare and bittersweet. Sometimes she doesn't know what would be worse; not knowing him at all, no memories or feelings, just dusty photographs and second-hand stories or actually having knowledge of who her father was, as a person, a husband, a dad. She tries not to dwell on it too much, only lets her mind wander when her mother mentions him.

Right after her sixteenth birthday, Jess lands a job at a photo place at the mall, taking pictures of screaming infants and petulant children. It's not ideal and the hours suck, but they pay's decent and Jess has a knack for not only drawing and painting, apparently, but photography as well.

She makes enough money that spring to pay for not only her half of the trip but also has enough left over to buy herself a second-hand 35mm camera and enough film to kill a horse. She spends a wonderful month in Italy, making friends, losing her virginity to some British student named Blake and amassing a huge amount of work to add to her portfolio, in a variety of mediums.

Once she gets back from Italy, Jess feels like she blinks and it's the start of her senior year. She's looking into schools, planning visits to some with her mother, applying to some of them for early decisions when right around Halloween, her grandfather falls ill. She stumbles about the next week or so in a stupor, mechanically attending classes and then heading to the hospital to sit and watch game shows with him.

He passes quietly, with Jess holding his hand and his wife and daughter weeping beside his bed on Veteran's Day. Jess feels herself grow numb, mind unable to process her grief at losing this man whom she'd always looked to for guidance and love, her source for her love of old movies and popcorn with parmesan sprinkled on it.

She spends hours in the tiny studio he'd made for her in the barn as a birthday present when she was twelve after that. Painting and trying her hand at sculpting and trying to channel her grief into something tangible, something more beautiful than this ugly feeling of nothingness clawing at her chest and throat.

Soon, it's almost Christmas and one snowy day, she comes home to find her mother and grandma waiting for her at the table, their faces serious, holding hands. She's terrified in that instant, drops her bag to the floor and hurries over, clutching at her mom's shoulder before she spies the thick cream envelope lying on the table, the red ink proclaiming it's come all the way from Palo Alto.

Jess screams and picks up the envelope, ignoring the way her mom and grandma are smiling at one another as she rips it open, eyes welling with tears of happiness when she reads the first few lines, the only words that actually register being 'congratulations,' 'accepted to the graduating class of 2006' and 'small academic scholarship.' She hugs her mom and her grandmother both, silently wishes her father and grandfather could both see and then proceeds to dance around the kitchen in joy while her grandmother makes her favorite, baked macaroni and cheese, in celebration.

Between her, her mother and the financial aid counselors, Jess manages to come up with enough money to cover tuition, room and board and a food plan. She starts e-mailing with the girl who will be her roommate, a girl named Rebecca from St. Louis and starts to make plans for the next phase in her life.

It's bittersweet when she leaves that August, all her worldly possessions crammed into the second-hand Jetta she managed to buy during her junior year. Her mom and grandma hug her and she watches them in the rear view as she drives down the dusty lane of their farm, away from who she was, towards who she wants to become.

She gets a job as a barista at the one Starbucks on campus and starts to settle in to college life. She hits it off with Rebecca, or Becky and they become fast friends. A few weeks into the semester, there's an issue with her one grant so she has to head down to the financial aid office and straighten it out.

Jess is haggard and rushed, having been up late studying for a Psych exam and is just having a shitty day. Her alarm didn't go off so she almost missed her test, she didn't have time to shower, her nail broke as she was heading into the lecture hall and then, her favorite sandwich shop was out of Swiss cheese. All she wanted to do was head home after class and break out the ice cream and maybe a cheesy movie or two.

But when she gets to the office, she runs smack dab into this really tall guy, cute dimples, apologetic smile, sad, puppy dog eyes and fantastic hands. He smiles at her as he helps her pick their papers up and then gives a tiny, jerky wave and Jess can't get her mouth open soon enough to get him to stop, ask him his name, anything.

Then she's being called over to speak with Bonnie, one of the financial aid workers and she forgets the tall drink of water.

For a bit anyway.

He starts coming into her coffee house a few days later, smiling shyly at her as he orders the same thing, every time; coffee, two sugars, no milk. he's predictable, always there at the same time on the same days and soon, Jess is fixing his drinks before he even arrives. After a few weeks, she's learned his name is Sam, he's there on a full ride, wants to be a lawyer and is estranged from his family.

That, she thinks, explains the sadness in his eyes.

When mid-terms roll around and most of the people on campus start resembling something out a of a George Romero film, Sam included, Jess starts sneaking him extra shots for free, trying to ignore how her heart flutters when he smiles, eyes flickering shut as the blessed caffeine perks up his sluggish brain.

After Christmas break, Sam comes in the first day Jess is back at work and asks her what classes she has that semester. It turns out they both are in the same Intro. to Sociology class and soon, they have a standing study date. Their study dates turn into movie and dinner dates over the spring semester and by March, Jess is spending more time in the bunk in Sam's room than in her own.

Sam, it turns out, is staying in Palo Alto over the summer, mainly because of the whole family estrangement thing. Jess cares for him, deeply, more than she is willing to admit at this point and despite wanting to invite him home so her mother and grandmother can fuss over him, she leaves him with a long kiss and a promise to call. She can tell by his wave as she drives off that he doesn't quite believe her.

Jess lasts about a month before she's back in California, working a job at Starbucks _and_ a movie theater to pay rent on a small studio apartment. She spends all of her down time with Sam and she takes him home over the Fourth of July, where he blushes and stammers and basically charms the hell out of Jess' mom and grandma. Her grandma makes her blush as Jess is hugging her to head back down to Palo Alto, whispering in her ear to 'keep that boy comin' around, if you know what I mean, Jessie.'

They spend the rest of the summer wrapped up in each other, Sam whispering a tentative 'I love you' into the skin of her shoulder one muggy night in August after they'd had a rather slow, lazy bout of sex. Jess' breath hitches and she rolls over, kisses Sam wetly, messily and pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes, rubbing their noses together.

"I love you, too, Sam Winchester."

The last weekend before their sophomore year starts, they head down to L.A. for the weekend, playing tourists and splashing around in the water at the beach. Sam seems genuinely happy, the shadows in his eyes not nearly as present as they were the year before and Jess... Jess thinks she can't ever remember being so happy as she is when she's with Sam.


End file.
